


Double Date

by Gia_cz



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: But author loved writing it anyway, Double Date, Elio Perlman is a good friend, Elio isn't impressed, M/M, Oliver can't eat burgers, Oliver owns a book store ya all, Steve McQueen is a legend, This fic doesn't make much sense, What am I on about?, until he is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23094235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia_cz/pseuds/Gia_cz
Summary: Elio goes on a double date with Marzia  and her new lover's best friend.He isn't impressed with Oliver until he is.
Relationships: Marzia/Original Male Character(s), Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68





	Double Date

**Author's Note:**

> I was on my merry way, gathering few bits for my new story and I came across this little story, which I wrote while being bored on the bus. It's nothing great, but I thought if it maybe manages to brightens somebody's day (as it did with mine when I wrote it), it's worthy to post. 
> 
> Stay beautiful!

"You can't just change your mind and leave me to it!" Maria, who was his best friend since they were old enough to distinguish other people's faces as something more than just a bunch of lines and shadows scowls at him with her patented _I'm so disappointed with you, and please, remember every single little thing I have done for you in the past_ expression. "Tony is expecting you to come!"

Oh, yes. Anthony Nowak was Marzia's newest infatuation and Elio had to agree with her, hands up, the guy was stunning. And unlike many others good-looking blokes she introduced to Elio in the past, he actually had a chance to meet Anthony more than once. Well, twice to be precise. And this was exactly why Elio found himself where he did - being forced no less to accompany Marzia to hers and Anthony's date number three.

"I really need your help, Elio," Marzia pleads at him with her hands dramatically extended as one does during a prayer. "We flirted, shagged and then shagged some more. I have no clue what we are meant to do next. They never stick around long enough for me to entertain that question."

"And you always make sure they don't stick around," Elio expands the theory further and it makes him realise that he can't let Marzia down. Not when it's more than obvious that she is actually genuinely interested in Anthony Nowak. After all, Elio was her best and eldest friend too.

"Pretty please, Perlman?" she bats her extra long set of fake eyelashes at him and it still takes Elio by surprise - even after more than twenty years of knowing each other inside out - how beautiful Marzia is. "It's not like you have been exactly social lately. I know the lube you keep in your bathroom has been expired for months."

"That's really low, Marzia. Even for you," he rolls his eyes at her and proceeds to turn his attention back to his open closet. "Plus, you don't even know Tony's friend is a gay."

Marzia scratches at her cheek idly, her long, dark red nails leave a visible trace across her porcelain skin, "well, no, but he doesn't seem to be interested in this," she runs her hand up and down her body in explanation and twirls herself around to prove her point.

"Because every bloke, who happens to be single has to have hots for you?" Elio gives Marzia a curt and perfectly fake yawn as he takes in a beautiful black dress she chose to wear tonight.

"Sure!" She flashes a toothy grin at him. "Just wait until you see him. You will mention me in your evening prayers for years to come. He is something else."

Okay. That perhaps spikes Elio's interest a little. Marzia's mentioned the guy is good looking before, but the way she is describing him to Elio now - with her eyes all misty and dreamy - it almost seems she thinks he is better looking than her own date and well, Elio is only a human after all.

"Hmm," he reacts as noncommittally as possible. "I have no interest in one time exploratory wonder with a straight bloke. Against majority of the mainstream gay movies it really isn't sexy or fun."

"But you could always do with a new friend, yes?" Marzia practically air fist pump in victory, because she knows she won Elio over. "I'm sure you will hit it right off."

*

They don't.

Elio watches Anthony and his friend as they make their way through the busy Saturday crowd and it can't and doesn't escape Elio's attention - the way Tony ever so subtly points his perfectly square chin at Elio and elbows the man beside him. And if he isn't eavesdropping, he could live in a sweet, blissful ignorance for the rest of the night, but well, he is.

"This wasn't a good idea, Tones," Anthony's friend hisses at him while he tries to face away from Elio, who in exchange pretends to be busy staring at the tips of his perfectly polished Oxford shoes. He hates that Marzia can’t just train her bladder to stop acting like she is still a twelve year old; wistfully staring at the direction she left. "I don't even know what I'm doing here. Jeez, just look at him."

Elio bristles at that. To think he wasted a whole afternoon pondering about the perfect outfit to wear to impress this kind of imbecile. Elio looks perfectly presentable as always, thank you very much.

"Hey, Elio!" Anthony waves at him and flashes Elio with one of his signature toothy grins. "Took us ages to find you in this mayhem! You still drink Moretti, yes?" He hands a pint to Elio and throws his arm around his friend's shoulders, "this is Oliver. Oliver, meet Elio."

Elio tries his best not to scowl at the man as he outstretches his hand politely, "hi," he offers reluctantly, but God is his witness, Annella and Sami Perlman raised him so much better than this.

The guy - Oliver just stands there for what seems like hours and stares at Elio. He then proceeds to take two full swigs from his beer before acknowledging Elio's hand. Oh well, some people can't help their bad manners and this one was most probably raised in the barn.

"Hello," he tells Elio and continues to watch him from behind a blonde fringe, which flops quite uselessly over his left eye. "This is really awkward, I hope Marzia explained that I only came out for a bit of fun. I wasn’t aware it was meant as a double date.”

Elio makes a sour face at the guy and is about to tell Anthony where exactly he can't stuff his mountain of a best friend, because the guy is huge, but Anthony is already having an armful of Marzia to deal with while being completely oblivious to the faux pas his oaf of a friend just committed.

"You bet it isn't," he replies to Oliver calmly and walks towards a free table Marzia managed to spot for them.

*

"Doesn't he look exactly like the guy you always mooning over?" Marzia whispers to Elio, who does his best at not staring at Oliver as he eats his burger.

His mouth is covered in grease and his hands are painted with a mixture of ketchup and mayo.

It's appalling.

"Steve McQueen?" Elio looks up at Oliver then and Marzia wasn't far from the truth when she described the man as something else, Elio isn't ignorant enough to deny that. Oliver, Elio thinks, has an air of timeless handsomeness around him, features one can look upon day after day and always find something new and surprising about the man, but never not beautiful. "I get more of a George Peppard vibe, really," and it annoys Elio to no end that he pays the guy enough of attention to make that kind of observation when he swore that Oliver is a piece of preposterous dick.

"Who is George Peppard?" Anthony asks all clueless, and Elio almost laughs, because he also sounds kind of jealous.

"Breakfast at Tiffany's?" Elio drops the hint, because he feels quite merciful towards Anthony, but both men look up at him from their burgers, faces absolutely blank. "Audrey Hepburn?"

"Sorry, I never watched any of her movies," Oliver tells him and Elio fights the urge to dab a napkin over his mouth. "I'm more of a bookworm kind of a guy."

"Oliver owns a bookstore," Anthony explains further and there is a hint of proudness colouring his tone as he smiles at his best friend.

Okay, that's _interesting_ Elio can admit that. He is a kind of a bookworm himself, really, but he doesn't feel like sharing the fact with the guy. He chooses to be rude and completely tactless instead.

"You really haven't seen any of Audrey Hepburn movies? She was a quite big name on Broadway, still is, really."

Anthony is back to feeding Marzia the black olives from his salad, but Oliver lifts a surprised eyebrow at him.

"Does it mean that you are a fan of Spaghetti Western then?" Oliver bites back, obviously pointing to Elio's Italian heritage, and before Elio has a time to come up with something prickly to throw back, Anthony is back in the conversation.

"Magnificent Seven is Oliver's favourite movie since he was maybe seven. He is such a creature of habit. Still forces me to watch it at least twice a year," Anthony elbows Oliver into the ribs and there is a faint blush, which sits high on Oliver's cheeks.

 _Cute_. Elio thinks before he mentally slaps some sense into himself. He leans in his chair ever so slightly as if to get himself closer to Oliver, because Magnificent Seven _has_ Steve McQueen in it, and Elio adores the movie, but then he remembers Oliver's comment from earlier and promptly mutes his excitement.

He has to kick Marzia's ankle, because she _knows_ and she looks at Elio all puzzled, because this is apparently perfectly healthy and suitable topic to bond over. Marzia knocks her knee into the underside of the table and Oliver's eyes flicks from her to Elio and back again.

"Magnificent Seven isn't Italian, Tones. It has _made in the USA_ stamp all over it," Oliver says calmly and sips from his beer.

"Well, I always liked that chilled out dude with the knives. He is super cool, but an efficient killer if needed," Anthony nods to himself more than anybody else about his choice.

"Britt," Elio says at the same time as Oliver and has to bite the inside of his cheek when Oliver looks up at him with a smug _I got you_ expression on his face.

*

Once they all finish their food, Marzia and Anthony appear out of nowhere with a tray full of shots and Elio thinks, _oh well, this still sucks, but at least there is a booze_.

"Elio is doing his masters in classical music performance and runs an online fashion blog in his spare time," Marzia answers Oliver's question as Elio walks over to the table from the bar, where he picked up few more pints of beer.

Oliver squints at the shots and picks up vodka, which he drinks with what seems to be a well-practised ease. He then looks at Elio, his eyes following the way a loose emerald cardigan hangs off Elio's bony shoulder and Elio has a sudden craving to cover himself and shout at Oliver _that's cashmere, Mr snow white shirt rolled up to my forearms so everybody has something to stare at_.

"That makes sense," Oliver says and smiles at Elio all gentle and lovely, and Elio doesn't know what to do with it at all.

"Are you calling me a p-ponce?" He stutters at Oliver accusingly, the rum making his tongue heavier around the words.

"But you are such a little ponce, it's not untrue!" Marzia sings songs and kisses Elio soundly on the cheek.

Oliver shakes his head slightly, sighing loudly to himself, "if I say I really enjoy Rachmaninoff are you gonna perform a voodoo on me?"

*

Elio doesn't. Perform voodoo. But it's a pretty close call.

At some point, Marzia drags Anthony onto the dance floor and doesn't even pretend to spare Elio a second glance before she leaves him in Oliver's not so pleasant company.

Oliver drank just enough alcohol for his eyes to be ever so slightly glossier and friendlier when they searched over Elio's face.

"You smoke?" Elio asks as he watches the other man's fingers tap on half empty packet of cigarettes. It's all crumpled and hardly rectangular anymore and one corner is soaked in something that looks very much like ink.

"No, I'm doing it just for you, doll-face," Oliver chuckles deeply in his throat and Elio would feel stupid if he isn't too busy wondering about the effect the noise has on him. "I don't really. Just sometimes when I feel like it. This packet here has been with me over a year."

"Right. That's good. Cause it's not sexy or anything. Cancer and all that jazz," _what the heck are you talking about_ , Elio thinks as he watches Oliver's lips where they create a perfect seal around the cigarette. "And you look like somebody, who looks after his health."

Elio still feels awkward, but at least he knows there must be some truth about the latter, because there is no chance that the man’s body would be this kind of ripped if he just lazes around the bookshop all day.

"I suppose I try," Oliver shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly and Elio knows he is staring when Oliver's mouth exhales a neat circle of smoke. "Tony drags me to the gym regularly, but it's not something I enjoy. I just see it as something we can do together, he and I, you know?"

"Yeah, Marzia takes me to her hot yoga class every Friday. They stick us into this inflatable sauna tent sort of thing and torture us for an hour and a half," Elio doesn't know why he share that with Oliver and why _does_ he smile at the man, but then Oliver smiles back - _la movie star_ smile his mamma would call it - all pearl white, perfect teeth and Elio brows draw together in disapproval once again.

Oliver watches him quietly as he finishes his cigarette and slides the battered cigarette pack in the back pocket of his jeans. They are stupidly tight and Elio thinks he only ever saw such muscular thighs in superhero movies.

"Wanna dance?" Oliver asks simply and pops three top buttons of his shirt open. Elio feels something lodging into his throat sideways and Oliver soft looking, golden chest hair is forever burned into his retinas. There is a silver chain, which hangs loosely around Oliver's neck and Elio suddenly wants nothing more than to feel the metal and heaviness of it with his tongue.

He shakes his head in a reply and reaches for another shot.

"I don't dance to this," he adds as Oliver looks at him from his overly long fringe. Jeez, Oliver's haircut looks professional. It looks like something one would pay maybe fifty quid for. Surely, the hairdresser could have dealt with the stupid fringe, make it manageable and tidy. Stupid Oliver with his annoying hair.

"Grimes is great, man. I grant you, she is no Bach, but she is pretty sweet if you give her music a chance. Real artist," Oliver gives him an awkward half wave before he turns onto his heel. "Later!"

*

Elio tries to listen to the song for a bit, but it's loud and quite obnoxious and it might as well be in Cantonese, because Oliver on the dance floor is something Elio never in million years though will be such a massive turn on.

He should be awkward. He is far too tall and big to be gentle and elegant and yet Elio can feel his face getting flushed just from looking at the man.

It seems as if Oliver almost forgets about the mass of bodies, which surround him, surrendering his body and mind to the rhythm of the music and feeling of loose happiness.

Elio wishes he could deny it, but Oliver is so beautiful that Elio almost longs to know how to dance so he can return in time and say _yes, please_ instead.

*

He sits there alone for a long time and drinks more than he probably should.

Oliver got lost in a crowd of writhing bodies some time ago, but Elio still remembers a petite brunette as she threw her arms around Oliver's neck, groping him more than actually dancing and there went Marzia's speculations about his sexuality.

Elio's head throbs painfully and he suddenly feels queasy with all the alcohol and lack of oxygen.

He tries to locate Anthony and Marzia, but it's so bloody busy it's impossible so he pushes himself up and makes his unsteady way towards the back entrance.

It's raining and the air is beautifully fresh outside and Elio feels better almost instantly. He takes out his mobile phone from his pocket and starts typing out a simple apology to Marzia, explaining why he decided to take off early.

"Aren't you a pretty little thing?" Voice from somewhere behind Elio says and he has to roll his eyes at how cliché the whole situation really is. He turns around almost in _I'm really bored right now_ kind of way and sure enough there is a drunk thug, who looks at Elio as if he is his for taking. "Are you here all by yourself?"

"Fuck off, will you?" Elio tells him curtly and stands a bit taller although the bloke has good extra inches on him.

He can feel the exact moment his heart rate picks up - the guy stumbles forward, too close really and Elio knows he shouldn't be frightened, because he is always more than capable to look after himself and stand his ground, but he shivers with adrenaline nonetheless, "are you always this prissy? I bet a good fucking will put you straight."

"Yeah, he _is_ always this prissy," Oliver, Elio realises as he recognises the rich, low baritone. "And he told you to fuck off."

The guy turns his attention to Oliver and at first he looks like he is ready to punch – his hand tightly curled into a fist, but then he sees Oliver and Elio has to laugh, because his eyes widen with such a fear and _who is little now, you prick?_

"So off you fuck," Oliver says perfectly collected and calm and doesn't move an inch. "Chop, chop."

"Alright, alright," the guy throws his hands up in surrender and stumbles back towards the door. "Bloody faggots."

Oliver watches him leave and Elio watches Oliver, who stands there in the rain with his shirt clinging to his perfectly sculpted body, looking like he just casually stepped out from one of Harlequin books Marzia always reads secretly whilst sitting on the toilet.

"I was handling it just fine," Elio says instead of thank you and he really doesn't understand why he feels as if Oliver keeps pushing some invisible buttons of his.

"I know that, Elio," Oliver nods slowly and Elio realises it's the first time he said Elio's name tonight, and why on earth does it sound and feel so _important_?

Oliver walks towards him almost sheepishly and kicks the grass with the tip of his shoe, "you don't like me very much." It's not a question so Elio doesn't reply and how is he meant to react to something like that anyway?

_I heard you talking shit about me before I even knew your name?_

"You don't like me very much," Oliver says again, but it sounds somehow more final this time around. He looks up at Elio from where he still abuses the grass, the tip of his shoe awfully muddy. And Elio wants to add it to the list he doesn't like about the man, right under messy eating and sitting obnoxiously with legs so far apart that there is nothing left for imagination. "And I apologise. I said to Tony this wasn't a good idea."

Elio's face folds onto itself and he is so done with Oliver that he almost misses the rest of it. Almost.

"I mean, you are so _so_ ," Oliver waves his hands around helplessly as he struggles for words, "really beautiful and intelligent and I'm always awkward around people I don't know and I have been so busy with my shop, I haven't been on date for ages and Tones ordered burgers for God's sake and I know how messy I'm when I eat, it's embarrassing really, but I can't say no to Tony that's why I agreed with the burgers and with tonight and I'm _glad_ I did, because you are the most interesting person I met probably in years, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry it wasn't the same for you."

_I don't even know what I'm doing here. Jeez, just look at him._

Elio watches him as he starts to turn around to walk away from and it's almost in slow motion kind of quality.

"I do like Magnificent Seven, you know," Elio rasps out and his voice is all breathless and hopeful. "Steve McQueen is my lifelong crush".

Oliver big body stops in mid motion and he glances at Elio over his shoulder, “yeah?”

“I once read somewhere that Sharon Tate invited him over for a visit to her and Polanski’s house on the night she was murdered by Manson’s sheep,” Oliver faces Elio again and his face is thoughtful and little sad. “I don’t know if it’s true, but I like to think – I like to imagine that if he did come over, he would turn up on his Triumph TR6R and save the day and many innocent lives.”

Elio smiles at the idea, because it's something he agrees with and can imagine so very easily, “he was a marine. Insanely good in martial arts too. I bet he would kick ass.”

Oliver doesn’t say anything for a while and Elio thinks _that’s okay_ , because Elio himself gets lost in thought for a moment or two, realising the life and what happens or doesn’t it’s nothing more than a random roll of a dice.

“I have a friend whose family owns this long forgotten cinema and it’s no longer open for public, but she runs it for family and friends,” Oliver says carefully and Elio can see it now and thinks about Oliver being awkward and shy around people he doesn't know well. Elio scowls, but this time he scowls at his own inability to see past his own prejudice and ignorance. “So if you fancy it, if you think we could maybe give this another try and make it a real double date, she would be more than happy to run Magnificent Seven for four of us tomorrow evening.”

“That would be lovely,” Elio replies perhaps far too quickly, but he doesn’t really care. The blue of Oliver’s eyes is suddenly almost too much and silly idea of drowning crosses Elio’s mind, but then he was always a very good swimmer and welcomes deep ends with open arms.

So when Oliver’s lips touch his – and that’s all it really is – a soft, pliant touch, which far more isn’t than is, Elio’s mouth curls into a little, happy smile, because it’s perfect and life really is just a random roll of a dice.

And he is lucky for once.

“Wanna dance?” Elio looks up at Oliver and he is still smiling, thinking he won’t be able to shake the smile off for the rest of the night.

“Always,” Oliver nods and holds onto Elio’s offered hand.

“Be aware that I’m going to step on your toes so many times, they might fall off,” Elio explains nervously as they walk towards the club hand in hand. “I’m absolutely useless in dancing.”

They walk inside and the music is somehow even louder and more obnoxious than before, but it doesn’t bother Elio one bit.

“I’m sure that’s what Baby Houseman said before she saw Johnny Castle’s pelvic sorcery,” Oliver winks at Elio playfully and pulls him towards the dance floor.

Elio laughs at the comparison and he knows Oliver can’t really hear him anymore, guiding Elio’s body against his own as they start swaying with the music but he says it anyway.

“Let the magic begin.”

*

Grimes, _Vanessa_ (the song Oliver was dancing to) - https://youtu.be/2-aWEYezEMk


End file.
